Did you actually read their guidelines, Box (and absorb what you read)? How in a 4,000-word story is the blurb you wrote not an out-and-out porn piece? What saving literary message do you have in there? (The point being that both Amazon and Smashwords flatly say in their guidelines they won't permit pornography.) And how is that not nudity on your cover? It's full nudity times two--Smashwords might even see it as a sex act being depicted--and the Smashwords guidelines don't even go to the "full nudity" level; they just say nudity on the cover is banned. (Smashwords once made my publisher put a short skirt on a Spartan warrior showing his butt.)

I think what is more surprising is how much these distributors let go through unchallenged on the basis of their guidelines. Not complaining, of course, just surprised at how lax they usually are.

It looks to me like you got caught for something you actually did. Hard to boo hoo for you for that. You just take your risks of taking lumps when you play on the edge.

Did you actually read their guidelines, Box (and absorb what you read)? How in a 4,000-word story is the blurb you wrote not an out-and-out porn piece? What saving literary message do you have in there? (The point being that both Amazon and Smashwords flatly say in their guidelines they won't permit pornography.) And how is that not nudity on your cover? It's full nudity times two--Smashwords might even see it as a sex act being depicted--and the Smashwords guidelines don't even go to the "full nudity" level; they just say nudity on the cover is banned. (Smashwords once made my publisher put a short skirt on a Spartan warrior showing his butt.)

I think what is more surprising is how much these distributors let go through unchallenged on the basis of their guidelines. Not complaining, of course, just surprised at how lax they usually are.

It looks to me like you got caught for something you actually did. Hard to boo hoo for you for that. You just take your risks of taking lumps when you play on the edge.

Isn't this discussion better located in the AH, by the way?

Smashwords accepted the story, but they won't include it in their catalog with the current cover. Everything I have available on SW and Az is strictly stroke, and all of them have been accepted by SW, except I have had to change two covers before and tis will be the third, if I do it. Az also rejected the story as being incest.

It sure as hell isn't an announcement of a new book. This has been operating as an annoucement thread, not a discussion thread. Such discussions as this have been conducted in the AH, yes.

And there's nothing anybody here can help you with your Smashwords relationship. You now reveal you've been through this before. It's their business and their decisions based on their interpretations--not yours. You can certainly yammer with them as you like and you may even get them to change their mind. But as I said, it's pretty obvious that both your cover and your story, if your blurb is accurate, can easily be interpreted by both Amazon and Smashwords as being something they don't publish. And, again, I'm surprised by what they do let through--including some of my works--given the guidelines they post. Despite the opinions of some of the other posters here, they are under no obligation to be consistent or even handed in the decisions they make. It's their business and we're not talking civil rights laws here.

The Lady Mercedes is beautiful, successful, and one of the most feared dominatrix's on the East Coast. Her club, The Velvet Rope, caters to every fetish imaginable and in the back rooms some of the most influential people in the country have indulged in their darkest fantasies.

Mercedes club has also served to treat and reward her fellow brothers and sisters who serve alongside her in the elite BDSM group The Circle. Even in a group comprised of dominants she is considered feared and respected, but of late a problem has arisen.

The rules dictate that twice a year each member must provide a video of themselves having sex for the entertainment of the group. For reasons of her own; Mercedes no longer takes great pleasure in sex. For her the game is about control and no sub is worthy of her, nor will she, even for the Circle, have sex thrust upon her.

But the Mistress Scarlett is not happy and sends The High Lady Felicia to find out what Mercedes issue is. At first Mercedes holds back, but an upsetting phone call from her family causes her to relent and reveal her past to her sister in the Circle.

From the poverty and ignorance of rural Louisiana to New York City, this is the story of a young country girl named Tonya Cooper who through her beauty, ambition and the lust of men, transformed herself from a struggling coed working for an escort service to The Mistress Mercedes, Lady of the Circle.

Jan 25th: Lovely 4 star review from Top 2 Bottom Review: The intensity of erotic feelings Ms. Church put into this short story is amazing! With only 52 pages, it managed to put every erotic dream I have ever had to shame. I could almost feel the lust, fear and need in these men. So hot, so wrong, so sexy, so taboo and yet OMG just sooo right. In case you are having troubles with how I feel about this book…it’s simply Fantastic!! http://top2bottomreviews.wordpress.c...-by-ma-church/

Tag:
Jordan and Allen are out for fun, but they're playing a dangerous game with an ancient predator...

Blurb:
Pounding music and writhing bodies fill the dance floor at Night Moves. Brothers Jordan and Allen share everything, and are part of a very small, very elite group of friends. What do they have in common? More money, power, and connections than most people can even fathom. These young men consider themselves above the law. Spoilt, powerful, and totally amoral, they use men without a thought for the consequences of their actions. Tonight the brothers have their sights set on a sexy redhead -- they're determined to have him in their bed!

Chaus is an ancient vampire as cold as his deadly kiss. Driven by a taste for kink, he's searched for centuries to find someone as debauched and sinful as he is, only to be continuously disappointed by humans and nonhumans alike. One desire drives him: a pet to call his mate that he can torture and pleasure with his lethal desires. His hunt has brought him to Night Moves, and he's on the prowl.

Jordan and Allen are out for fun, and they place a bet on a deadly game. But they're playing with a predator -- and a dark, hidden secret that the brothers possess will be the catalyst that brings Fate down on them. The Bad Boys Club has once again picked the wrong target to play with.

Excerpt:
Jordan leaned on the railing, looking down at the wiggling mass below him. Lights flashed and music thumped as bodies writhed on the dance floor of Night Moves, a trendy upscale bar. The floor was crowded. It was Friday night, after all, and time to celebrate. “Do you see him, Allen?”

“No, I lost… wait. There he is. Yeah, I got him now. Damn, can we pick ‘em or what? Fuck, Jordan, I can’t wait to see him on his knees with my cock buried in his ass while he sucks you.”

Jordan scanned the crowd down on the dance floor until he found their prey. There he was. Poor Allen. He might want the guy, but he was just going to have to wait. Jordan planned on having that redhead’s ass first. He was, after all, the older brother. Jordan’s smile faded. He’d hoped this one would be different. Over the last several months the hunt he and Allen had taken part in had become… boring.

He was bored. God, how ludicrous was that? He got all the ass he wanted, and still he was bored.
Maybe he was getting jaded, but the thrill was fading. The guys he and Allen picked up were all the same. They fell into their beds with hardly a whimper, got fucked, then went home. He wanted… Jordan exhaled silently. He didn’t know what he wanted. But he damn sure knew this lifestyle was getting old. It would be… nice… if he could find someone who fit his needs; someone who could stand on his own as easily as he did, but would give up control when he demanded. That was his idea of the perfect ideal man… right?

“So?” Allen nudged him, interrupting his thoughts.

The roving lights of the club wandered over their choice, his red hair shining for just that moment, and Jordan’s cock hardened. Both he and his brother had a thing for redheads. A smirk tilted his lips as he watched their prey’s body grind on the dance floor. He sincerely hoped their guy had freckles. He loved tracing those sexy little brown dots with his tongue while their chosen piece of ass cried out in pleasure.

Their friends, Hugh and Kain, didn’t get their fascination with gingers. They didn’t understand how well that pale skin showed marks… like those from his hand slapping down on an upturned ass.

“So… what?” Jordan so enjoyed winding his brother up.

He rested his elbows on the railing. For VIP’s, the club had a decadent, kinky side. The second level was members only, and membership was awarded on the basis of money, power, and prestige. The second level was where other jaded predators like he and his friends roamed. The bottom level -- the dance floor -- was where the fresh meat was displayed. After all, every predator needed prey.

“Don’t start that shit with me, Jordan. I’m not in the mood for games tonight,” Allen hissed. “We’ve scored once today, and I’m ready to celebrate.”

The third of habu’s Grab Bag short story anthologies is much like the first two, a totally unthemed gay male story collection that skips over the world in location and across time in setting and offers a variety of thoughtful themes, romance, humor, hot sex, irony, twist and/or twisted endings, and much else that has dropped out of habu’s fertile mind and into his computer on almost a daily basis during the past year.

Included in this fifteen-story collection are, in addition to contemporary explorations of being an “actively gay male” in the United States, stories reflective of habu’s past in Bangkok and Hong Kong; a few inspired by a recent trip to England, Wales, and Scotland, and even a short trip to Portugal as well as several exploring favorite themes of his: first times, older and younger men, black on white, surprise and unexpected twists, and the worlds of art and spies.

The anthology fittingly starts with a “first time” story, “The Awakening,” of a young man doing just that—awakening to his sexuality and his preference as he’s thrust out into the world from a protected childhood. From there, the anthology takes a wide turn to the humorous in “Best Job in the World,” with a skin magazine editor receiving a surprise “thanks” visit from one of his unlikely authors. Turning to snarky, “Lance’s Secret” is about the plight of a college fraternity house “reliever.”

“Emmet” takes us to a university community, where a very proper university don develops a fixation on a black working-class neighbor and gives up all of his academic pretensions. “Ernestine,” which continues the black and white element, is one of habu’s rare explorations into the world of transvestites.

“Loving Wife” turns to a somber note, with a real-world look at the threat to an older-younger, same-sex marriage built on the sex drive when the older partner is dying from cancer.

We zip off next for Portugal in “Chaz’s Choice” for a “rubber-meets-the-road” decision that has to be made in the nasty world of spying. “The Negotiator,” the first of three England-based stories in the anthology, offers a different kind of espionage, as two men work each other as they each work to come out on top in an international business transaction.

“The Clothes Horse,” takes us to Hong Kong for the story of a deal to exchange services for sexy men’s clothes. In “The Video List,” a young man in rural Virginia learns that it’s more exciting and profitable to be in gay sex videos than to work in a video store. “The Celtic Sonata of Life” crosses the Atlantic to England’s Cotswolds and a special service vacation cottage. “On a String in Bangkok” takes the reader back across the world for a habu reminiscence about gay life in Bangkok in the mid-seventies and the particular meaning of being “on a string.”

In a change-of-pace and timing piece for this anthology, “Training Asu,” set in an ancient Middle Eastern city, covers the coming-of-age initiation of a beautiful young man. “So You Want to Be in Movies” is the proverbial film producer office couch audition story, but laced with a bit of mystery and menace. The anthology ends with a historical piece set in Norwich, England, covering the developing professional life of a fine young artist who was willing to do anything to receive the mentoring of an older, accomplished artist.

EXCERPT:

From “The Awakening”:

I’m at Mr. Crabtree’s, just finishing up his lawn. It isn’t all that hot today, but I’m not wearing a T-shirt anyway. I’m not quite sure why I’m not doing that. I’m less sure of why I’ve worn gym shorts that ride low on my hips. But I suspect it has something to do with the way Mr. Crabtree is sitting there on his porch, watching me mow, and about what’s been on my mind recently. He’s in gym shorts too—and he isn’t wearing any T-shirt either. And he’s got a really, really finely worked body.

I feel all tingly and I’m hard down there. I know this is exactly what Grandma doesn’t want me feeling or doing, but I’m feeling pretty free and euphoric. I like this feeling. I like it a lot.

He’s not looking at my face. His gaze has gone down from my pecs to below my waist, and that doesn’t change a thing in my arousal.

“Lookin’ real good . . . real good,” he continues, as he lifts his gaze to connect with mine and smile. “Come on up and have something to drink.”

He stands as I climb the stairs to his porch. He’s already got a pitcher of iced tea out here today.

“Unless you’ll have a beer,” he says, as he gestures at the tea. I see the magazines, as usual, are strewn on the table beside where I sit.

I also see something else. I see that his gym shorts are tented. I am aware that mine still are too—and I’m aware of that because I see where Mr. Crabtree’s gaze has gone again.

I clear my throat. “I believe today I’ll take you up on that offer of a beer, if it’s just the same to you.”

He smiles at me. It’s a big smile, like we’ve made a step toward something he’s been working on for some time. And, in fact, maybe we have.

“I don’t have any out here,” he says, holding the smile. He’s moved his hand down to the waist of his gym shorts, which are pulled down in front because of that tenting. He sticks his thumb under the waistline and pulls them down a bit more. I can see the line of the curve under his flat belly and the creases on either side where the thighs meet the hips, dipping down toward the still-hidden center of him. I feel my breathing coming a little harder.

“If it’s beer we want, we’ll have to go inside. Will you come inside with me?”

“Yes, that would be fine,” I say. It comes out more a squeak than anything else, though.

He smiles and backs up to the door, never taking his eyes off me, and pulls the screen door open. The other door into his kitchen is already open.

“Go on through to the living room,” he says as I move past him. My shoulder brushes against his chest as I pass. It makes me shudder. I’ve felt the downy hair he has running on the underside of his well-muscled pecs. I’d already seen that the line of fine, curly hair came together on his sternum and moved down his belly, where it flared out as it disappeared under his waistband. With his gym shorts pulled down in front, I have seen that there is thicker hair curling up from beneath the waistband in front.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he says. “Just getting us a couple of beers from the frig.”

I walk—almost stumble—on through to the living room, my trembling increasing as I go. I have no experience in this. This all could be natural. This might not be what I want to think it is. And I might not be able to go through with it even if it is. But I feel so ready for it. I’ve been like a bird in a cage all these years. I feel like I’m busting to do something.

In The Skiing Accident Edward is immobile, stuck in a hospital bed, unable to use his arms. The gorgeous foreign nurse is desperate to tend to his needs but afraid of getting the sack, so she dreams of what she wants to do to him.

If you like it I have a number of stories available and am producing more on a regular basis.

Lesbian Liaisons short story collection contains this story amongst others:

After you've become a Literotica author. So, you need to post at least one story to this Web site first.

And no reason to advertise it until it's on offer somewhere.

We're trying to build some demand before it's published.

What are exactly the specs for the story to be published?
We do have them on one website but as they feature the real names of our male protagonists we're a bit shy of posting them someplace else. The book that is going to be released will have bogus ones...

What are exactly the specs for the story to be published?
We do have them on one website but as they feature the real names of our male protagonists we're a bit shy of posting them someplace else. The book that is going to be released will have bogus ones...

That's not really the way it works in this arena of book marketing. Unless you are a best-selling author, no one really cares what you're going to have available next month. If a advert gets their interest they might buy it right now. It it's not available right now, they'll forget about it.

For here, it's good to have the cover image to show.

I don't understand the rest of what you're asking. The names in the book you're releasing should be the ones you'd use, I'd think. It's a story they're buying not your family tree.

But, until you are a Literotica author, there really isn't much reason to think about what to post to this thread.

That's not really the way it works in this arena of book marketing. Unless you are a best-selling author, no one really cares what you're going to have available next month. If a advert gets their interest they might buy it right now. It it's not available right now, they'll forget about it.

For here, it's good to have the cover image to show.

I don't understand the rest of what you're asking. The names in the book you're releasing should be the ones you'd use, I'd think. It's a story they're buying not your family tree.

But, until you are a Literotica author, there really isn't much reason to think about what to post to this thread.

Well. we simply write about real people - members of a certain heavy metal band, we find them 'inspiring'. But the short stories we wrote can be considered fanfiction, no money is made on them etc, the big novel is something else - we want to sell it. And make some money. From what we've been told by our guinea pigs who read the excerpts it is possible to guess who the novel is about though we're not that obvious. But we wouldn't really want to spread around the knowledge of who we really mean in our novel...

Ok, I'm reading the submission guidelines... I suppose I just have to go over one of our short stories and change the names there...

The latest stand alone story from the dark and sexy world of The Circle.

Like all members of the Circle, Allison Saunders, The Lady Pandora, plays hard. As dominate as she is seductive Allison has total control over her young lovers, using the teasing promise of her lush body to get them to do anything to please their mistress.

As hard as she plays, Allison works even harder. Since joining the Circle her career in advertising has seen her go from an underpaid overworked, nobody, to A&S's top money maker.

Like all members of the group however, Allison is never satisfied and has her heart set on one day running her own agency. That day may be coming soon as Allison gets a chance to work with two beautiful women who own a controversial line of products aimed at the lesbian market.

The campaign has the potential to create not just a lot of money, but the type of notoriety Allison has been striving for. The kind that could put her in business for herself.

But a problem has arisen. Jasmine and Simone of Sinnsatiable will only go with the campaign if Allison can get supermodel and fellow Circle member Victoria Redding to model for the "Sisters in Sin" campaign. Victoria has never, nor she claims, will ever, pose as provocatively as Allison needs her to.

Allison begs and pleads, finally asking her to do it as a Circle favor. Victoria relents, but on two conditions. One that Allison herself be the other woman in the highly erotic shoot. The second will be a favor to be called in after the campaign succeeds

Allison agrees and after the ad launches even more successful than she'd hoped, Victoria shows up to tell her that her favor is due.

That's when Allison discovers that The Lady Felicia, the High Lady of the Circle secretly enjoys the finer points of the softer sex and has come to claim the Lady Pandora herself as her payment.

Allison has never been with a woman before and has no desire to be, but the first rule of the group is "Nothing in the Circle is free" and The Lady Pandora is about to truly become Lady Felicia's sister in sin.

It's loosely based on my own experiences. It's also based on my strong view that the FSOG voice in erotic fiction is way too influential.

I've tried to make my book a truthful view of sex with plenty of filth, a dash of humour and a seasoning of honesty. No simpering virgins and grumpy sadists here.

As this is my first piece of erotica, I'd certainly appreciate views on whether I'm barking up the wrong tree.

Here's the jacket blurb:

Trent Johansson used to be overweight and insecure with a colossal appetite for something he wasn’t going to get anytime soon: Sex. After terminally embarrassing himself with his first furtive forays, he resolves to make himself irresistible to hot women, even if he has to make a career out of it.

He hits the gym hard and becomes every bit as well stacked, well hung and shallow as he ever wanted to be - a bona fide player. Yummy mummies, beautiful babes and horny hotties are his for all the naked fun he can handle.

But times have changed and 21st-century women are willing and able to use men right back. When Trent becomes a tame gigolo for a circle of well-heeled ladies who lunch and lust, he finds himself in a far stickier situation than he ever imagined possible.

‘Drop and Give Me Ten’ is an 82,000-word sex comedy brimming with rude words and explicit scenes of a sexual nature.

Trent Johansson is a personal trainer, sex therapist and reformed philanderer. He lives somewhere near you with his wife and kids. He likes the way you work it.

Released by Dreamspinner on Jan. 23rd-- Perfect, Book #2 in The Gods series. This is a M/M other paranormal romance novella.

~Jan 26th: Number #3 in the Best Selling Paranormal/Horror Cat and #4 in the Best Selling Scifi/Fantasy Cat at ARe. Also made the Best Seller list at Dreamspinner.

~~Lovely 4 star review from Top 2 Bottom Reviews on Perfect http://top2bottomreviews.wordpress.c...-by-ma-church/
Sexy, sweet, loving, hot, erotic and addicting! Those are just a few words that describe this hot and steamy book. I could not put this book down! Page by page, the storyline kept me guessing at what was going to happen next.

What happens when a human by the name of Jeff Mayfield inadvertently lays a monster challenge on the God of Love… one that Cupid can’t resist? Jeff is willful, stubborn, and egotistical… and, best of all, doesn’t think love is something he needs in his life.

Can Jeff be…

Perfect

Blurb:
Jaded billionaire Jeff Mayfield loves only what his money and power can buy, but the Fates have plans for him. First a player in Jeff’s casino hits a huge jackpot and things turn hectic. Then, in the middle of the chaos, Jeff lays eyes on the unbelievably sexy Cam Smith—Cupid in his human form.

Seized by lust, Jeff makes a move, only to find himself on the receiving end of a blistering wave of sexual intent. Cam disassembles Jeff’s self-image and puts it back together upside down. But Jeff isn’t the only one struggling with control. Cam’s alter ego is Jealousy, and if he loses his composure, the consequences will be deadly.

Excerpt:
“So, what is he, or who is he? Cam, I mean.”

Mo took a deep breath. “He wanted to be the one to tell you, Jeff. He’s Cupid, God of Love. He’s had his eye on you since he first saw Randy and Garrett. And no, he didn’t make them fall in love, any more than he made you fall in love. He didn’t use his arrows on any of you. You are his mate, his one true love. And believe me, Zeus isn’t happy with this situation, or with him. He’s not happy with either of us, actually.”

“Zeus…? He’s the… the….”

“God of all the gods.”

Jeff rested his head against the steering wheel. “Okay, right, god of all the gods. Can I say I’m a bit over-fucking-whelmed right now?”

“Now would be as good a time as any.”

Jeff sat back in his seat, rubbing his hands. He hadn’t realized what a tight grip he’d had on the wheel. “So, what has Zeus got up his ass about this?”

Mo frowned. “Up his ass? He’s not gay as far as I know, Jeff. But that’s not to say he hasn’t—”

“Oh my sweet baby Jesus.” Jeff had forgotten that Mo took everything literally. “Why is he not happy with this situation?”

“Ah.” Morpheus snorted. “You’re human. The gods don’t care all that much for humans. Plus, you are not immortal. We are.”

“Shit.”

“Nicely put. There’s more, and this is the hardest. Cupid stands for love, right? That’s what the mythology says, and it’s true. He has arrows that can make people fall in love or fall in hate. But what most humans don’t know is that there are two different sides of Cupid. You saw a bit of the other side earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“That there is a dark side of love: obsession and jealousy. The other side of Cupid is Jealousy, the green-eyed monster that drives people to do horrible, destructive things. Jeff, I’ve seen Jealousy once, and he’s scary. You have to believe in your love for Cam. You need to keep talking, keep explaining what happened—while I stand guard.”

Released by BarbarianSpy on 26 January 2013, a GM interracial romance novella, Brambleton, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt):

BLURB:

Matt Henderson arrives at university a naive nineteen-year-old from a small farm, who knows little about the world beyond his rural Virginia home. But he does know that he likes, or maybe even loves: big black men. And he also loves architecture and beautiful old buildings. The accidental deaths of his parents in a car accident brings Matt back from his first year at university to his small family farm in southwestern Virginia, where he is comforted, helped, and bedded by his hunky black neighbor, Dashad. Dashad insists that Matt return to his architectural studies at the University of Virginia, where he is seduced and introduced to a life of luxury by Virginia aristocrat playboy, Perry Fitzhugh, who soon whisks Matt off to the Fitzhugh estate, Ravensworth, for a Thanksgiving frolic of hunt parties and a surprise bedding by Perry’s father, William Henry.

The first hunt of the season also leads to a rough ride on horseback that unexpectedly takes Matt to the next estate, Brambleton, the unique Italianate style of which has caught Matt’s interest, especially in that its south wing is burned out and in need of restoration. He also comes under the sway and obsession of Brambleton’s owner, Philadelphia judge Archibald Atherton. Not so slowly Matt increasingly sells out to the attraction of wealth and position—and most important, the obsession to possess and restore Brambleton.

In a fast rags-to-riches and part way back again ride, his two obsessions come together as he uses men—and is used by them in turn—in his journey to possess Brambleton and obtain sexual fulfillment.

But in the end will Matt find love is more important?

EXCERPT:

Matt’s tongue was hanging out even before they entered Loudon County in Perry’s Mustang, as well-groomed estate after large country mansion rolled by in gorgeous rolling countryside along the eastern foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. As an architecture student, he was in heaven. He was wearing a new form-fitting shirt and slacks from Joseph A. Banks and the finest pair of leather loafers he’d ever owned, and two new Samsonite suitcases containing all new clothes were in the trunk of the car—all bought by Perry. All symbols that Perry owned his ass.

He was wearing just enough of Gaultier’s Le Male fragrance for Perry to say that he smelled perfect and that it was exactly right for him, and a cashmere sweater was draped over his back with the arms in a twist in front of his shirt as he’d seen in old movies of Rock Hudson types and that Perry said had yet to go out of style in the hunt country.

Perry was wearing a white designer T-shirt and faded jeans with holes in the knees, but the swarthy bad-boy look became him as much as the preppy look showed off Matt’s blond all-American look.

As they got closer to Leesburg, Perry began rattling off the names of the families owning the estates they were passing and including one or more catty tidbit about the skeletons in their closets.

“Near Ravensworth now,” he said at length.

“Ravensworth?”

“The name of the ancestral home in Fairfax County, now the location of just another expensive subdivision just inside the Beltway. The original William Henry Fitzhugh’s plantation. The name was transferred out to our new digs—if the mid eighteenth century can be considered new. Ravensworth is the name of the family dump.”

“You said the ‘original’ William Henry Fitzhugh?”

“Yes. All of the Fitzhugh heirs are named William Henry. The lord of the manor we’re going to is William Henry, although everyone he’s actually speaking to calls him Hal.”

Ahh, Matt thought. New information. So Perry isn’t the heir of the estate. That must mean he has at least one brother—older, most likely.

He planned to worry that a bit more—he’d thought he was rubbing shoulders with the heir to the estate and, over the past several weeks, as he had sunk lower and lower into enjoying the status and good life that Perry was bringing him to, it was meaning more to Matt that he was moving up in the world like a rocket. But as he was picking at this thought, his attention was drawn to an imposing mansion atop a hill on a meticulously manicured estate that was unlike any of the other southern colonial or rock-faced mansions they had been passing. He readily saw that it was in an Italianate style that had only started to come into style when the Civil War choked off such expensive undertakings. There was a massive square center portion, with two elegant wings, the whole covered in ivy. It was only as they came closer to it, however, that Matt saw that the southern wing was merely a shell—that at some time it had been burned out and the roof on that side was half caved in.

Tanner Malone never bought into military myths of honor and glory. He never wanted to wear a uniform or medals. Yet when family upheaval brings his otherwise stellar performance in school to a disastrous end, Tanner's plans for university lie in ruins. Facing homelessness and a mountain of debt, Tanner enlists in his home planet's tiny navy.

It’s a hell of a time to sign up. Vicious pirates stalk the space lanes, claiming to fight an oppressive economic system even as they shed innocent blood. Civil war looms beyond the borders of Tanner’s home star system of Archangel. Corporate security fleets are nowhere to be found when trouble arises.

In response, Archangel begins ambitious military expansion. Basic training becomes six months of daily bareknuckle brawls, demanding cross-training and constant stress. Brutal as it is, Tanner will need the preparation. The pirates grow more audacious with every attack. As if that’s not enough, Tanner is assigned to a small ship whose disgruntled crew has no patience for cerebral new recruits, and they’re on the front lines of all of Archangel’s woes.

Tanner soon learns there is only one way to deal with his bullying comrades, their ruthless foes and the unforgiving void of space, and that’s to get up close and personal.

"Poor Man's Fight" is an adventure sci-fi novel of overreaching corporate power, crushing student debt, and space pirates. There's no erotica to be found, but give it a look anyway--it's worth your time.

Announcing the release on 1 February by BarbarianSpy of Sabb’s Hiring in Hollywood.

Blurb:

Shawn Moore owns a very exclusive gay recruitment agency, hiring personal staff members for very special and particular Hollywood clients. His interview process is also very unique to say the least.

When Kyle arrives looking for more than an interview for a vacancy for an enclosed water and pumping system maintenance manager, pool boy that is, he gets far more than he ever expected and also gets a job he didn’t even know he wanted, but which Shawn thinks he may be perfectly suited for.

All does not run smoothly in the world of exclusive recruitment, though, and Shawn gets more than he bargained for in conducting staff appraisals and following up on a surprise resignation.

Excerpt:

I slapped the sofa cushion next to me.

“Come, sit here, Kyle,” I said in a friendly voice and smiled at Kyle, who seemed paralyzed, shaking but immovable. I slapped the cushion again.

“That’s right, Kyle. No need to be shy. From your application we feel you have the right qualifications for the position we are filling. It was a big field and a tough choice, but you made it this far. Now we need to determine, in person, how suitable you really are. If you do well here today we will put you on the short list, which we’ll present to your potential employer. Then it’s up to him to pick out any applicants he wants to meet personally.”

At least Kyle was still with me. That was a good sign. He was still standing near the door, which showed a lack of assertiveness, but that was also a good sign. The potential employer and I were not looking for much assertiveness.

“Uh . . . um, suitable. I . . . my CV . . .”

“Your CV is very good, Kyle. The science degree is great, very relevant, and your sports success, particularly at swimming, is just what we want. The photo is another reason, of course, and I have to say it did not lie. You are one good-looking young guy.”

“Photo? Oh . . .”

“Come on, Kyle. Time to sit here so we can get down to business.” I slapped the cushion yet again and smiled what I like to think is my friendliest, most reassuring smile. I needed to move things along. Move Kyle along or get him out of my office. Not being assertive was one thing; not being willing to obey instructions from the man in charge was another. No one got to the next stage if they couldn’t obey my instructions.

Kyle tentatively stepped over and sat down on the sofa, as far from me as he could. Still looking away from me. I just slid closer to him, squashing him between my body and the sofa arm. He was shaking badly; I could feel it.

“So, Kyle.” I moved a hand to his crotch and had a feel. He seemed to levitate a foot off the sofa. “You ever see a naked man with a hard-on before, Kyle? You ever have another man see you naked with a hard-on?”

“Uh . . . yes, um sports . . . uh, showers, uh . . .” He ran out of steam. His shaking was getting worse, and he was still looking away from me. “Um . . . this job . . . um, what is it about?” He was panting with the strain of getting a sentence out.

Released by Resplendence Publishing, January 23rd, 2013 – Dangerous Beauty, a M/M fantasy romance by Tali Spencer. Available at AllRomance, and Resplendence. Amazon coming soon.

This story may sound familiar to some of you because an early version appeared on Literotica.

Blurb:

Once the Kordeun family ruled Sebboy…now they are imperial captives of the Uttoran Emperor. Devout and studious, Endre Kordeun loves his family and will do anything to free them, even if that means pretending he’s gay so he can pass messages to his father’s shady allies. With his golden good looks and a beautiful male courtesan posing as his lover, Endre finds Uttor’s decadent society more than willing to believe his ruse.

But when a passionate kiss from a dark, gorgeous man unlocks feelings Endre had been hiding even from himself, lies start to unravel. Arshad, prince of Tabar, is Endre’s match in every way…including a shared love for science and celestial mechanics. Going forward with his charade will be dangerous, and not only because he might be discovered. In that event, even his own father would kill him. How much is Endre willing to risk for love?

Excerpt:

To his surprise, the other man did not release him. He only gripped harder. He also grabbed Endre’s other wrist and propelled him backward, suddenly off-balance, against one of the pergola’s granite pillars.

Arshad ceased his kisses and slammed his body forcefully against him. “Everything you want,” he said, “I can give it to you. Every…fucking…thing.” Those powerful thighs ground his pelvis against Endre’s, rolling cock against stiff cock.

“Damn it, stop,” Endre grated, barely a whisper. Was their watcher still there? He didn’t even know. Worse, he no longer cared. His cock was on a rampage, straining against the cuff secured around his shaft and balls. He jammed his hips forward, pushing back, increasing the contact and the pleasure.

“Not on your life. You’ve been asking for this for weeks. This is what you’re here for, what you need. Not someone small and soft. You want it large and hard.” Arshad bent his head near again, lips brushing his ear, and murmured, “Say it, princeling. Let them hear you say you want it.”

That big hard cock was grinding against his now, creating such sweet friction he knew he would never last. Endre groaned against his clenched teeth. His head sagged forward, bumping Arshad’s shoulder, golden hair spilling across midnight velvet. He was on the fucking edge.

“Say it.” That dark voice vibrated softly beside his ear.

No, he wouldn’t do it. He wasn’t going to say it, no matter what his damn cock was feeling. He shook his head.

“Stubborn,” Arshad grunted. Taking the edge of Endre’s ear between his teeth, he gently bit.

“Ow!” When Endre’s head rocked back in surprise, those predatory eyes seized his with purpose before Arshad’s mouth descended, this time fiercely. His mouth was sealed by those lips, his breath trapped, as captive as he was. Something thick and hot, the other man’s tongue, thrust between his teeth to penetrate and fill him. Already lost to the demanding rhythm of the cock bumping and rubbing against his, he exploded, bucking against Arshad’s body as his shaft bunched and semen jetted into the confines of his trousers. His howl of protest and surrender was muffled by the supple, plundering muscle filling his mouth.

Arshad released his kiss and gazed down at him. Gasping for air, Endre was certain he looked as stunned as he felt. “I need more,” the Tabari prince said. The bastard hadn’t come. Releasing Endre’s left wrist, he used his right hand to work open his trouser flap, releasing his straining monster from its cage. The gorgeous cock men had been admiring all evening emerged into its owner’s hand.

Drained from his orgasm, Endre sagged against the pillar with one wrist still pinned to the stone and watched, captivated, as Arshad’s hand closed around the thick shaft. God, what a cock! Big as Arshad’s hand was, it only covered half the length as it closed about the girth. That dark shaft challenged the thin moonlight, stabbing through those curled fingers with every thrust of Arshad’s hips and tug of his hand, the long strokes pulling back the foreskin so that the head emerged from his fist like a primordial creature seeking release.

One-eyed, dripping, leaping toward freedom.

Forcing his eyes away from the sight, he found Arshad’s devouring gaze fixed firmly on his face. Desire flooded the strong, masculine features with a force that slammed into Endre’s gut. When he saw those eyes slit, Arshad’s head fall back, lips parted with a groan, he looked in time to see a fountain of semen shoot in silvery plumes across the pergola. Arshad’s hand pumped weakening spurts of ejaculate before he ceased, his fingers releasing and his cock slowly bowing toward the ground.

“You are even more beautiful in person than from memory,” Arshad said, sounding contented.

Launched by BarbarianSpy, a GM Valentine’s Day novella romance, Lower Than the Heart, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt).

BLURB:

A Valentine’s Day Romance.

Having outlived one older lover, young Washington, D.C., playwright Trent Colson is (only barely) resisting the attractions of another older man, stage director Gerhardt Von Hultz, who is in cancer remission. Trent retreats to the Eastern Shore of Virginia, nominally for quiet time to make rewrites to his coming play, but more in sexual frustration and denial. Here he falls under the power of a predator lover, Buster, who sees sex between men as a clear victor versus vanquished struggle in which the only point is the concluding ejaculation. Buster defines Trent as the natural vanquished and manipulates him as such.

Another man enters, however, who endeavors to prove to Trent that there is far more to a sexual relationship between men than that.

Will the spell Buster has cast over Trent be broken and what will be waiting for Trent when he returns to Washington?

EXERPT:

The gas station attendant’s directions were good, and it was impossible to miss the house with the junk yard in front. It wasn’t directly on the ocean, but it was close enough that Trent could hear the surf. He also could hear someone chopping wood around at the back of the big shed ten yards from the house. Trent got out of the car and walked around to where he heard the noise coming from.

He stopped in his tracks when he got around the end of the shed. The man with the Jeep Wrangler was standing not far from said Jeep and splitting logs. He was wearing jeans and the hiking boots and nothing on top. His muscles were rippling and his torso was glistening with sweat in the light of the sun. If Trent was writing stage directions for the first appearance of the “outdoorsman hunk,” this would be what he’d write.

The man looked up. “You.” He gave a little smile that looked like it knew more than Trent did.

“Are you Buster?” Trent asked. He felt his voice was thick but the words seemed to have come out in the right order.

“That would be me. You come here for some of it?”

“Excuse me . . . a man at the filling station outside Oyster suggested I come here. There’s a chrome strip on my car that needs to be reattached or reglued or something. He said you might be able to fix it for me.”

“You don’t say. A chrome strip on your car.” Even Trent could tell that was said in a “likely excuse” tone of voice. He wanted to back away. But then part of him didn’t. And the car needed fixed.

“Yes.”

“You sure you’re not here to get some. You’ve been like following me around the last day or so. And you’re a nice little piece. I wouldn’t mind getting into that.”

Trent didn’t know what to say. The man was forward and bordering on crude—well, across the border, but the way he said the words made them arousing to Trent. He certainly didn’t mince words. And they had run across each other’s paths in compromising circumstances the previous day.

“Honest. Chrome strip. Car.” He turned to the side, either as if proof there really was a car back there needing help or as a prelude to running to the car. He himself didn’t know what the movement meant. But, fuck, the man was a bronze god. Trent could feel himself going hard.

The man—Buster—put his ax down and walked toward Trent. Trent shrank a bit from him as they grew level, and Buster turned his eyes on him—those knowing eyes. He stopped just briefly, but so much was conveyed in that one look. Then he smiled, as if he’d seen something answering, coming back from Trent, and then continued back out to the front yard. He went down on his haunches at the side of the car and examined the problem.

“Not a problem,” he said. “It needs a couple of brackets tacked back in and then it will slide right in place.” He had looked up at Trent when he said “slide right in place” and had bracketed the phrase with ever-so-brief pauses, and Trent just about swallowed his tongue.

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